


Fire That Burns Without Being Seen

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, After the Blackwater, M/M, Melisandre is a good bro, Prompt Fill, R'hllor ships it, Stannis basically locks himself in his room because of feelings, The Flames detect UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 22:57:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4497891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An answer to this asoiaf kinkmeme: "Stannis holing up in his room after the Battle of the Blackwater had nothing to do with Melisandre and everything to do with Davos. More specifically, Davos' death.<br/>Bonus points for Mel checking on him because she saw their UST in the flames and also she is a true bro."</p><p> Stannis grieves, Melisandre tries to be comforting and the flames of Azar Ahoi flicker, for a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire That Burns Without Being Seen

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings ! I wrote this because I really wanted to read an answer to this fill,and I figured I'd try my hand at it. The gods know there's not enough of this pairing. The title comes from a gorgeous Portuguese poem by Luís de Camões , title translates to something like 'Love is a fire that burns without being seen'. It seemed somewhat fitting. 
> 
> This a fill from the prompt :http://asoiafkinkmeme.livejournal.com/22142.html?thread=14412414#t14412414
> 
> I own nothing but what my wandering mind comes up with.

Stannis had seen it happen.

He'd seen it happen, from his place in the deck of the Fury, a safe distance away from the wildfire that spread like a plague from ship to ship,consuming wood and flesh alike. He watched, as it was his duty, as was their due , while his men died for his cause. He made himself still, stern and unmoving in the middle of the chaos , and all the while he could not stop his eyes from fixing themselves in one ship, his ears from trying to recognize a specific voice from the cacophony of dying screams.

In that moment he had been young again,three-and-ten and wet with rain, watching his parents ship crash against the rocks, again and again and again. But it was the Black Betha he spied then, fire not rock that took that which was dear to him. For the first time since the day his parents died Stannis prayed,and if the God was different this time the meaning was the same.

_Do not take him. Not that ship, not that man, not him. If you truly are powerful, if I am truly the Prince That Was Promised, then you will not take him._

It was no use,of course. The Red God proved no more useful than the Seven, and more treasonous by half. Now, standing in his balcony in Dragonstone, he gripped the obsidian and remembered the way his gloves had gripped Lightbringer's scabbard in the deck, wishing he could fight an enemy, do something. Fire, the Red Woman had said, was his domain, a blessing from R'hllor to men, warmth and hope and power. Instead,it had burned to cinders his army, his fleet, and with it almost any hope to stake his claim to the throne. And him.

There were no flames in the hearth now. The king's chambers were dark and dank, no light for one to read the many parchments in the great oaken desk. They were neatly folded now,though it had not been so when Stannis had pushed them to the ground in a fit he told himself was anger.

Later, panting and struggling with the weight stuck in his throat , he'd been disgusted by himself, both by his pathetic behavior and his dishonesty. He's looked at the maps,spread in the rushed like yellowed leaves,and would not allow himself to misname the pain they caused. _Davos never could read, but give him a map and he'd find a course where others saw only obstacles_ , he'd thought, and tried to steel himself against the throbbing in his chest .

That had been the the day before yesterday, time enough for the desk to gather the dust that seemed to permeate the air in these walls. Neither servant or courtier had stepped in the king's chambers, and all of Dragonstone tethered, waiting for its lord's rage to pass its course. Except it was not only rage that made him close himself from the world, but a different kind of despair. It was grief, and the strength of its blow surprised even him .

How was he supposed to go on defending his right to the throne,to continue ruling and fighting and living without a headstrong smuggler at his shoulder, to point out better courses and mistakes, to offer honest council and genuine trust? He'd told himself he would wish for what could not be, should not be, when Davos lived, but now that he was gone he cursed himself for a fool, to pine so for a dead man.

The silent stillness was pieced by a lock turning. Clenching his fists, Stannis watched as the door, which had stayed closed for the last sennight, opened to permit a swirl of red on volouptuous limbs.

"What is the meaning of this? I gave orders not be disturbed." Stannis' voice was rough with days of silence,his nostrils flared in anger, but it was muted,faded somewhat. Lady Melisandre seemed to know this, or perhaps she did not care regardless, because she closed the door behind her.

"Your Grace, you must not blame your squire. You have been alone too long, and your men worry." Balanced in her arms was a plate of food, but at the mention of Devan his appetite only soured. It had been too much, to look at the boy and see Davos grief-stricken eyes looking up at him in another's face. He was the last Seaworth now, he and the two young ones named after Stannis and his own father. Yet, through his own pain, Devan had recognized his king's grief, recognized the flash of something deeper than expected, so Stannis had sent him away. He would not share his grief, not with the man's son and not with the Red Woman.

"My men worry that I am weak,that I have nothing to give them but defeat. They are not wrong to do so."

He turned his back to her, listening as she placed down the plate in the desk. Stannis had refused food in his quarters this many days,refusing to take it only to let it rot, finding an hollow pleasure in the pain in his stomach. It kept him alert, all the better not to dream. He'd though, in the days following the Battle of the Blackwater, that he would never rest easy again with the groaning of the Black Betha in his ears joining the shadowy dreams of Renly's demise, but lately he's dreamt of the siege. Seeing Davos come in his skiff every night for the first time, waking up with the sound of the garrison cheering and the memory of his unwrinkled smile fresh in his mind was far more terrible.

Melisandre moved on quiet feet, taking place behind him. For a time they stood in silence, aknowledging the emptiness in the space at Stannis' left shoulder. It ached worse than his hunger, with no hope for onions to mellow it.

In time she spoke, in a softer tone than he expected, "Death by fire is the purest death. I have prayed for Ser Davos soul,so that the One True God may judge him well and welcome him in eternal peace with his sons. His loyal service will certainly be rewarded well."

There was much Stannis could have said about the efficiency of the Red Woman's prayers and the fairness of her god's judgement. "Ser Davos was hardly one of your fellow worshipers. If any god is to sit in judgement of his soul,it would be the Father." Still, the thought of Davos at the fickle mercy of the Seven made him grind his teeth.

Melisandre pressed a hand on his arm,cautiously, for once nothing sensuous about her touch. She stifled a sigh at how he tensed,so suspicious of any kindness. It had seemed to her sometimes that her king clad himself all in iron, hiding his fire from all but his onion knight. And now he too was gone, and his flames turned coals, colder with every morn that passed.

She searched for words to comfort him without letting on all that she suspected. The flames were unclear in this matter, as they often were when it came to Davos Seaworth. She knew little, and what she thought she knew was not certain, at least not enough to give the king false hope. And yet...

"There is no shame in loving another. R'Hallor made us being flesh to worship him,and blessesed us with spirit so we could find joy in another's kinship. Your Grace," she said, seeing him turn to her and open his mouth,no doubt to call her a foolish woman,making sure to keep her grip and look him deeply in the eyes,

"Yes, I know it does not seem as such now. To cherish another, to lose them so, may seem more of a curse. I know." For a moment it seemed she was seeing another face, a pained look sweeping over her eyes, likening them to the color of blood. Recognition passed between the king and his priestess, the acknowledgement of a similar wound left open. "I know. I have seen it in the flames."

Stannis seemed to be struggling with his jaw, as if he could likewise grind his feelings into dust. He would not deny it, not when she put the truth so clearly, yet it was hard to tell if it was shame or anger that rankled him the most. Good. Better he turn his fury at her than waste away in grief. For all that she and the faithless Ser Davos had disagreed in much, she didn't doubt he would not wish this for his king .

She wondered if he would ask her what exactly she had seen in flames, as he had often done before. Perhaps he'd want to know how she could know of something he hardly admitted to himself, or want to know if his regard was returned, though she doubted it. Yet, when he did make a question, she had no ready answer to give.

"Tell me then, my lady. What would your flames have me do?" Melisandre considered. She thought about the secrets found in the fire,about warnings unheeded and prayers unanswered. She thought about Ser Davos, a flickering light encased in shadows, inconsequential until you looked deeply, and how his pale fire ignited bonfires in his King,even now. Mostly, she remembered her lessons in the temple, how the tales told that Azar Ahoi only burned as brightly and as high as Nissa Nissa fueled him to.

"You burn. You grieve and you hurt and you burn with it, so your light may be greater than any shadow that dares claim your soul. You loved and you lost and now you must burn with it, Your Grace. It is all any of us can do."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome. I'm SearchingforSerendipity on tumblr.


End file.
